The Long Haul
by codedredalert
Summary: Seven years later, the Vongola Tenth generation guardians have settled into their roles as the leaders of one of the greatest mafia families around. Hibari does long missions, and Gokudera doesn't. That is, until Tsuna sends them on a long mission. Together. 1859 friendship fic.
1. Prologue

**The Long Haul**

By **codedredalert**

**Prologue**

**Summary**: Seven years later, the Vongola Tenth generation guardians have settled into their roles as the leaders of one of the greatest mafia families around. Hibari does long missions, and Gokudera doesn't. That is, until Tsuna sends them on a long mission. Together. 1859 friendship fic.

**Disclaimer**: '_Katekyo Hitman Reborn!' _is theproperty of Amano Akira and its various licensers. I do not own any other licensed works this story may hold resemblance to or make references to. I do, however, reserve the rights to my whimsy and original ideas and characters which may appear. Yay.

**Warnings**: Profanity. LGBT related jokes, events or characters. Violence. Hints of random (albeit completely unimportant to the actual story) pairings.

(If something in my fic offends you, or is factually inaccurate, please feel free to review or PM me. ^_^)

_**A/N**__: Inspired and beta-ed by __** KusajishiFukutaicho**__, to whom this fic is dedicated. In fact, it is because of her that I'm writing KHR fanfiction at all, so yeap._

_If anyone wouldn't mind answering some questions on Italy/ Italian language/ culture, please drop me a PM! I'd love to clarify some things. if anyone wants to talk about whatever, feel free to PM me and let's chat. ^_^_

-/\-

Dec 13

Gokudera hated long missions.

It was hardly a secret. In the eight years since the Tenth had graciously accepted him as part of Vongola, he'd gone on exactly one long mission. It had been a three-month search and sabotage, and he'd been sent with Yamamoto and Lambo. Needless to say, it was disastrously terminated even before the month was out, and the three of them hadn't been allowed to spend more than a week together since. Unless _supervised. _ How humiliating.

Gokudera maintained that it had completely been the baseball freak and the idiot cow's fault, even though there was clear evidence of C4 being set off at what _used to be_ a hotel. As far as the storm guardian was concerned, it as good as never happened and the family obliged, except on Christmas when a little too much alcohol made all sorts of embarrassing stories surface. He made sure to discretely kick any offender for their transgression, unless of course, it was the Tenth who saw fit to bring The Incident up, in which case Gokudera only raised a mild verbal protest. Tsuna—when it was just family, it was supposed to be 'Tsuna' and not 'Tenth'—never meant any harm and Gokudera could take a little jibing. Just a little.

That was all that the notion of Gokudera on a long mission was: a slightly shameful memory at worst and a joke at best. However, for some inexplicable reason, the Tenth had decided that Gokudera was the perfect choice for this particular mission. Never mind that the last long mission had become a permanent scar on Gokudera's psyche. Never mind that Gokudera hadn't been on the field proper for at least two years straight. Never _mind_ that the Tenth had no other conceivable way of dealing with the sheer volumes of paperwork Gokudera had to wrangle with.

"Trust me, I need you, _specifically you, _on this mission," the Tenth had said, looking straight into Gokudera's eyes. "You know I wouldn't ask otherwise. Please, Hayato?" The small brunette had smiled, caramel eyes conveying polite apology and gentle imploring all at once. Gokudera had hesitated just a fraction of a second, then bowed to his boss' wishes. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sawada Tsunayoshi, _Vongola Decimo_, and damnit they both knew it.

"In that case, it is my honour to go, Tenth," Gokudera said.

"Thank you," the Tenth had breathed in relief. "Oh, Gokudera-kun? One more thing, if you don't mind."

"Yes, Tenth?"

"Try to keep Hibari-san in line for me?"

Gokudera had a brilliant mind, a fact freely acknowledged both within the Famiglia and without. He didn't have an eidetic memory, but it was a near thing. Information and its processing just came readily to him, provided he had a moment to focus. Gokudera himself would grudgingly admit that he was still the 'blow stuff up first and rationalise it later' type, but no one could deny that the man was _intelligent—_between Irie and himself, Vongola could execute the complete takeover of entire rival families so smoothly that the family would not realise they'd become a subsidiary until they'd been invited to the Vongola's private Christmas dinner three years in a row.

He beat Fuuta in chess easily, provided no cow-print shirt wearing kid started kicking at his chair until he just overturned the damn table and threw said kid into the pool from the window. He had the complete respect of the entire IT sect in the Vongola, a feat harder to achieve than it sounded, what with the sheer solidarity of the 'geeksquad', as they were fondly—or sometimes _not_ so fondly—referred to. In fact, Gokudera was occasionally called a genius, and with four languages firmly under his belt and a fifth on the way, he was hardly humble enough to deny it.

This self-same almost-genius, eloquent Gokudera froze and stared at his beloved boss, who had the most serene and trusting smile upon his face.

"_What?_"

-/\-

20 Dec

Gokudera loved and respected his boss from the bottom of his heart, he truly did, but sometimes he had to wonder if the man was mad. The selection of the tenth generation's guardians spoke volumes in itself. The fact that Gokudera stood among them as right-hand was solid evidence that the Tenth was generous, and willing to disregard centuries of tradition for those close to him.

Still, the rest of the guardians were a crew so motley that they'd _literally_ been laughed at when they'd been officially presented to the underworld. A wishy-washy baseball nut, a boxing enthusiast with no concept of an indoor voice, a crybaby cow kid, a girl who looked like she would faint if she stood in the sun too long, a convicted mass murderer whose idea of fun was sending people to hell, and a violent loner who would sooner hit you than help you.

Speaking of which, the icing on this particular half-baked cake was his mission partner: the irritable, particular and _very_ unforgiving Hibari Kyouya, who would not appreciate Gokudera's presence one whit. Sure, the cloud guardian had always been given certain liberties over the rest, but Hibari's complete disregard of his obligations to the family just rubbed Gokudera wrong in every way. A good man and a great boss like the Tenth should not need to wheedle favours from his own guardians, especially when said favours were for the guardian to do his damn duty.

Right now, Hibari was late and damn if Gokudera was going to take this kind of bullshit. Muttering curses and not bothering to even keep track of what language he was using anymore, he tried to call Hibari's cellphone for the forty-third time.

Like the previous forty-two times, he was sent straight to voicemail.

"Where the fuck are you, you bastard?" Gokudera snarled before he hung up.

Taking a deep breath, he took the phone away from his ear long enough to check the time, then hit redial. Again.

-/\-

Hibari had no particular distaste for long missions. There was a solace in long journeys where no one knew him on the street and he could do as he pleased without anyone demanding he take responsibility. The foreign lands he saw were interesting enough, and it made home so much sweeter when he returned.

It helped that Hibari had a knack for the long game. Despite appearances, he knew when to give, when to pressure, when to wait. Oh, and how he could wait. Sometimes it amazed even himself. He hadn't been quite so patient when younger, but now, now he was someone whose name was held in high regard among the mafia elite and business world. _Hibari Kyouya, Vongola Cloud_, they whispered in quiet awe, underlined by an instinctual wariness when he walked through their halls without care of the danger.

"A remarkably patient man provided he gets his way in the end," Chiavarone had commented once, only half in jest.

The little brunette, Sawada, had probably noticed the same thing and as a result, Hibari was usually sent for the jobs that took months and a sharp mind to complete. He didn't mind, as long as Sawada made it worth his while. Long missions were never as exciting as short ones, and had periods of utter tedium. They took planning, research, and politicking, which Hibari despised. He much preferred when the little sometimes-carnivore said nothing at all and just gave him a folder with a little red tag in the top right hand corner. Utterly decimating buildings and striking fear into the hearts of complacent, arrogant men was the perfect description of what Hibari thought was a good time.

Sharing a jet with the silver-haired, chain smoking, obnoxious man who declared himself Hibari's superior, on the other hand, was _not _Hibari's idea of a good time. In fact, Hibari doubted it was anyone's idea of a good time. Gokudera Hayato had no idea how to conduct himself around Hibari, and Hibari was not interested enough to invest the time needed to educate him. Hibari already had the Italian mixed-blood figured out. Mid-range explosives expert, pathetically incapable of handling his emotions for a man of twenty-two, intelligent but simply not fast enough to put up a decent fight against Hibari. Then there was the myriad of personal issues he came with. Hibari snorted just thinking about them.

Simply put, Gokudera Hayato was a herbivore who could bite if he was driven to, but his fangs would never so much as touch Hibari. The Italian mixed-blood should have stayed behind his desk in the Vongola tenth generation's main house in Japan, or better yet, gone to the traditional family house in Italy where he would be out of sight, out of mind, and out of Hibari's beloved Namimori.

"You're late," Gokudera scowled, ignorant of Hibari's mental tirade against him. Hibari narrowed his eyes. He was _not _late. Takeoff was at 2050, and if Gokudera wanted to be two hours early, that was his prerogative. Hibari was not obliged to obey a text that came at two AM asking him to turn up at 1800, especially when said text came rudely worded and from someone he held little regard for.

"You going to answer for yourself?" Gokudera demanded as he stood, pulling up the handle of his luggage and rolling it along with him as Hibari started walking away. Hibari did not even bother to look back at the man.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, asshole! Show some respect!"

Hibari frowned. This was going to be a very long flight.

-/\-

_**A/N:**__ I hope you liked what I have so far. I'll try to update at the end of every month, but real life and the fact I haven't finished writing the story may just thwart me. Anyway, please review! Thanks, and I hope to see you next chapter)! _


	2. Arrival

**The Long Haul**

By **codedredalert**

**Chapter 1: Arrival**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own KHR. See Prologue for complete disclaimer and warnings.

**Chapter Warnings**: Swearing. Implied death of unnamed characters. Insulting thoughts about architecture.

_**A/N**__: Thank you __**KusajishiFukutaicho**__, my lovely, longsuffering beta, for dealing with my rushing and awkward. Thank YOU if you've reviewed, followed or favourited my story or myself._

_If you wouldn't mind clarifying Italy/ Italian language/ culture stuff, please drop me a PM!_

-/\-

22 Dec

Hibari hated travelling on a _good _day. Putting him through 45 hours of transit with one Gokudera Hayato was certified _hell_.

He couldn't enjoy the stopover in Singapore because the odd hours of arrival and departure just drained all his energy. He hadn't been allowed to book a first class suite. He hadn't even been allowed to book just half of business class to get some personal space. No, he'd been forced to sit right next to the Storm guardian and endure the non-stop, infernal typing and the white glare from the silver-haired man's laptop for twelve hours of flight.

And _after_ all that, Hibari hadn't even been allowed to get a driver to get to Naples. Instead, he had been subjected to the morning rush crowds on the train, first to Rome's central terminal, and from there to the central Napoli terminal. The Italian _then_ insisted on eating lunch in the city, when both of them still had bags and coats and jetlag to deal with. Hibari would have been happy to buy something to go just so he could get out of the crowded, noisy, bustling public, but the silver haired man _had _to have a _five course_ meal. As Hibari had no idea where or when anything was happening until they visited Chiavarone on Christmas' eve in two days' time, he sat there and glared as the other typed and ate and texted and took calls. Only three—_three_—hours later did they get into a taxi to go to whatever heaven-forsaken place the miser had picked out for the mission's duration.

In hindsight, not having Kusakabe arrange his travel schedule and accommodation was a mistake.

"We should have taken the jet," Hibari growled. The silver haired man looked up from his laptop in surprise, which quickly turned to annoyance.

"We're supposed to be undercover," Gokudera said sharply.

"We should have taken first class," Hibari amended generously, sleep deprivation and travel fatigue showing in the edge of his voice.

"It's too expensive. I already let you take business, what more do you want?" Gokudera snapped his laptop shut, his trademark no-nonsense temper starting to strain at the edges. Hibari was secretly relieved, though he could still hear the 'tap tap tap' in the back of his head.

"First class," Hibari said simply. Did the half-Italian not hear him the first time?

"What normal twenty-three year old can afford first class?" Gokudera hissed. Hibari looked at him with disdain.

"Forget it," Gokudera sighed. His phone buzzed and he whipped it out of his pocket and started tapping away on that instead. Hibari turned to look out the window, feeling slightly nauseous with all the electronics. They seemed to be heading to the less well-off part of town. Hibari could see unintelligible symbols sprayed onto walls as the taxi passed some smaller alleys. That irked him. He reached for his tonfa even as the blatant displays of disrespect to public property and the law went out of sight. Hibari frowned.

Perhaps if he slept, this would all be over quickly.

Just as he thought so, the taxi pulled up in front of a five story building that was decidedly unimpressive. Gray and visibly weathered, their lodging fit right in with the rest of the vandalised street. Nevertheless, Hibari exited the cab promptly, refusing to spend longer than he had to inside the suffocating vehicle. The air was brisk and cold, a welcome reprieve from the stuffy over-heating that seemed to be present inside all the buildings and public transport in Europe.

Hibari wondered briefly if the apartment would be the type with central heating or self-contained heating. He hoped it was the latter. Europeans did not seem to realise that having the indoor thermostat at thirty-five degrees Celsius made the weather outside feel worse.

"I'll see the landlord and get the keys," Gokudera said. He entered the house without waiting for a reply, leaving Hibari standing outside with the bags the driver had helped lift out of the boot. Hibari made brief eye contact with the man, and the taxi pulled out of the driveway as if speed limits were suggestions. Hibari frowned slightly at that. It seemed that no one in this country had any respect for law or courtesy. Sometimes he wondered how the little sometimes-carnivore managed to convince him to leave Japan. Sometimes he wondered why he still let himself get talked into it every time.

"Got them, let's go. Fourth floor, unit A, all the way at the end," Gokudera said as he returned. He paused after he retrieved his bags to look at Hibari meaningfully. "There's a lift but it's small. You're not going to like it."

"We'll see," Hibari said, annoyed by the presumption. Gokudera merely shrugged and led the way inside, past a small area which served as a reception. It was small and rather bare, though there was a door that presumably led to wherever the landlord lived. Gokudera then opened the door to an empty broom cupboard and stood aside. Hibari stared at him.

"This is the lift," Gokudera explained. "You know, elevator?"

Hibari stared into the broom cupboard. There were a panel of buttons on the inside, but other than that, it looked like a three foot square empty storeroom. Gokudera seemed to have gotten tired of waiting though, and wheeled his own bags in before squeezing in himself.

"See you upstairs then. Fourth floor," he added as a reminder before he closed the door. It clicked and through the tiny glass and wire mesh window, Hibari could see the inside of the broom cupboard lurch up slowly.

Hibari turned on his heel, exited the reception and took the stairs.

Unit 4A was on the fifth floor, giving Hibari yet another reason to be annoyed with the place. The door was open when he got there, one of Gokudera's red suitcases set on its side to hold it ajar. Hibari stepped in, taking all the bags with him, including the one that had been used as a door stop. The door threatened to slam shut as a gust of cold air rushed by, but Hibari caught it with the back of his forearm and let it swing shut gently.

"You took the stairs after all," Gokudera commented as he came out to the entryway to retrieve his bag. He had taken off his shoes, and placed neatly to the side, against the wall. Hibari gave a short nod, then looked at the apartment. From the door, he could see almost nothing of the place, except for a wooden door set straight ahead and part of a beige sofa. A wall cut off the entryway from the living space, and Hibari found himself grudgingly approving of the tactical advantages of the layout. He removed his own shoes and placed them at the side, locking the door before lifting his bags into the apartment proper.

Three steps in and Hibari had a proper look at what would be 'home' for an indefinite amount of time to come.

It was mostly wooden doors and white painted walls, with pale cream or wooden furniture. The curtains to the balcony on the left and the carpet were different shades of blue, and the few framed paintings on the wall were all green and blue scenery; of river banks, or sailing boats. The beige sofa that could be glimpsed from the door looked over a low table to a television mounted on the opposite wall. That wall also had a door, which Gokudera was manoeuvring his bags through.

"You like it?" Gokudera asked as he caught Hibari's gaze.

"It's small," Hibari critiqued as he continued his survey of the place. There was not much left to see. Just a simple kitchen with an island counter that doubled as a dining table, with three high chairs along one side.

"It can't be helped," Gokudera replied. "We're on a budget." He looked up, green eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Shouldn't you be used to this? You're always the one on these sorts of jobs."

Hibari didn't think it worth mentioning that he'd supplemented the miserable budget with his own cash. It might give the man an excuse to cut off his budget entirely. Instead, Hibari narrowed his own eyes in return.

"I am always alone on 'these sorts of jobs'," he retorted stiffly. Gokudera shrugged, conceding the point. Hibari wheeled his bags in and parted the curtains to have a quick look out the balcony. It had the first sliding door Hibari had seen in this country, though it was made of full length glass. The balcony itself was short and wide, perhaps four long steps across and one easy step to the tall, concrete barrier that was the edge. The view was of the next building's windows.

"Fuck!"

"Quiet," Hibari said reflexively, turning back to the apartment. Gokudera stuck his head out from the room.

"You be quiet! There's only one bed, dumbass!"

Hibari had suspected that, with the size of the apartment. "Why didn't you check with the landlord before renting the flat?" he asked dryly, annoyed by the other's lack of foresight.

"Long story," Gokudera growled, one hand going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "In short, I got a good deal on the place."

"Miser fool," Hibari commented, walking into the bedroom to have a look, and bringing his bags with him while he was at it. Sure enough, there was only a single albeit decent queen size bed. Hibari walked round it then back, looking it over with an analytic eye. Gokudera hovered, awaiting the verdict from the older man while running a hand through silver hair.

"It's settled then," Hibari decided at length, flipping his suitcases to lie flat on the floor on the side of the bed that was further from the window. Gokudera looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. Hibari—claustrophobic, crowd-hating _Hibari_—wasn't going to put up a fuss about the single bed? A pillow suddenly hit Gokudera in the face, and Hibari was moving the remaining pillow to the centre of the headboard.

"What?" Gokudera asked.

"You sleep outside," Hibari said simply, starting to unpack.

"Hell no," Gokudera replied, putting the pillow Hibari had thrown to him back on the bed. Hibari paused and looked up, a tonfa suddenly appearing in his left hand.

"Then fight," Hibari said, eyes narrowed.

"Look, can't we settle this like adults?" Gokudera asked. "We'll take turns by the week. And as a show of good faith, you can have the bed first. Agreed?"

Hibari made a noncommittal sound and promptly ignored the other thereafter. He started unpacking with the efficiency born of practice, emptying his suitcases quickly. After a moment, Gokudera seemed to have come to a decision and started unpacking as well. He took the drawers on the other side of the bed, and a busy silence filled the air, isolated but not uncomfortable.

Naturally, both of them discreetly noticed what the other had brought. Both of them were fighters, and an analyst and a diplomat in turn. It was impossible for them not to pick up on the arsenal the person in the same room was laying out.

Gokudera, as usual, had somehow managed to smuggle his weight in explosives on his person, and twice or three times that in his luggage. Hibari mentally snorted in contempt for both the airport security and the silver haired man's reliance on a bulky, one-use only weapon. The same thoughtlessness was evident in the clothes the other had brought. Hibari had noticed that Gokudera's bags were twice the size of his own, and now it became apparent why. Gokudera had brought his entire wardrobe along, as well as half his office. Stacks of paper and clothing steadily piled up on his side of the bed.

Chains, chunky jewellery, studded belts, t-shirts with loud print and ripped jeans also formed a few piles. Incredible, how the man thought that those delinquent-like articles of clothing were appropriate. Hibari was decidedly not impressed.

On the other side of the room, Gokudera was making similar observations in the background. His mind was whirling in its usual million mile a minute style; worrying about the Tenth, analysing the mission, calculating the schedule for the next few hours, the next day, the week, the mission's projected duration, the rundown of the different _famiglia_ and their networks, the economy, the direct neighbourhood… Somewhere, along with all that, he noticed that Hibari had brought the absolute minimum along, and it was easily catalogued without conscious thought. All suits, a few sets of what looked suspiciously like _Namimori's_ uniform, and a spare scarf in _Namimori_ yellow.

Something felt off for a moment, and Gokudera paused to give a casual strand of thought space to take hold. Hibari seemed to have no weapons with him, which couldn't possibly be right. The Cloud guardian wouldn't simply walk around unarmed. Or maybe he would, Gokudera thought dryly. Though he had never seen it himself, Yamamoto swore blind that Hibari had thrashed Ryohei in hand to hand. Granted, that had been on New Year's, so that might have been the _sake_ talking.

Gokudera reigned his conjecture in. Hibari had obviously brought his tonfa.

"Did you bring a gun?" Gokudera asked.

"No," Hibari replied, without looking up.

"Well, what did you bring, then?" Gokudera asked in a business-like tone. He caught the edge of a frown forming before Hibari briefly held up two cubes, purple edged with silver. Box weapons, probably hedgehogs.

"Is that all?" Gokudera asked. Hibari kept the cubes he had been holding up and continued unpacking as if Gokudera hadn't said anything.

"Be that way, bastard," Gokudera muttered, going back to his packing. His myriad of thoughts slid back into place and he ignored Hibari in favour of wondering whether the Tenth noticed a difference in the reports Irie and Fuuta were doing in his place.

-/\-

Gokudera had a mental checklist for the day, and so far, he was doing pretty good. He'd finished reading and analysing the mission specs on the plane. He'd managed to arrange the catering and the staffing for the private Christmas dinner, as well as the Guardian-only after dinner presents. He'd settled the payment slips for all the staff for December, just in time for the long holiday. He'd proofread Mukuro's latest mission report. He'd filed Yamamoto's university alumni networking profile. He'd arranged for a new fake ID and passport for Chrome for her Myanmar mission. He'd filed Irie's medical reports. He'd paid Lambo's school fees.

And now as his list was slowly whittled down to the big, empty block of time dedicated to the vague, looming demand of 'the mission', Gokudera was faced with the unenviable choice of lethargic ennui and trying to pick apart Hibari Kyouya.

The Cloud guardian, of course, had finished unpacking and packing and had stood in the corner of the room, half-watching Gokudera with the look of a leopard only half-contemplating a herd of zebra from its lounging in a tree. Hibari had produced a phone and sent off a slow, deliberate series of texts, grey eyes flicking over as Gokudera laboriously tried to fit all his belongings into one modest chest of drawers.

Possessive bastard and his stupid power-plays, Gokudera groused as he took a moment to consider what the best way to keep his socks was. It was obvious that Hibari was not leaving until Gokudera did, just to reinforce his claim on the room.

Well, two could play that game, Gokudera decided, emptying out the bottom drawer again. He packed, unpacked and rearranged the drawers until he was satisfied that he had found the best arrangement. Then he stopped, took everything out methodically and tried out another arrangement that seemed like a good idea. Hibari seemed to have run out of things to text, and kept his phone, blatantly standing watch with a heavy, level gaze. Keeping a very careful blank face, Gokudera decided the previous arrangement really had been the best and redid his drawers. Hibari's distrustful stare intensified into a full out glower.

A lesser man would have fled. Perhaps that man would have been all the wiser for doing so.

With a very deliberate air of ignorance, Gokudera gathered his bags and left the room. He shoved his briefcase under the low coffee table and went to pack his mostly empty suitcases into the storeroom-pantry. The shelves were notably empty, not that Gokudera had expected anything else. There was an ironing board folded up against the wall, but no iron. Gokudera made a mental note to hunt for it later. Between Hibari and himself, they had enough suits to set up a small store. They _needed_ an iron.

He walked out of the storeroom to find Hibari sitting at the kitchen corner, ankles crossed upon each other in a way that was deceptively neat. The bedroom door was shut, and Hibari's back was to the wall. Gokudera felt a flare of irritation and just the slightest twinge of resentment. They were meant to be family and here the ex-prefect was acting like Gokudera was about to stab him in the back.

Gokudera was many things, but a traitor he was _not_.

Hibari's posture was perfectly calm, casual like he had been sitting there for hours instead of scarcely a minute. He did not look up.

How strange that someone could set upon you a stare that could bring titans to their knees, and in the very next moment not care the slightest whit for your existence. Gokudera felt his curiosity take a mental poke at the convoluted knot that was so out of place in his neatly woven mental map of _who what when where why_.

Hibari Kyouya. Hibari Kyouya who'd commandeered an escalator school at the age of twelve and the healthcare system of an entire town by the time he was fourteen. Hibari Kyouya who talked about _biting_ people and blatantly abused mammalian order classification to refer to others. Hibari Kyouya who regularly pulled off lengthy missions and returned with results that exceeded all expectations and _mafioso_ divided in equal measure between commending him or baying for his blood.

He knew the dark haired man sitting at the table but did not understand him. He did not know where to even begin understanding him. He knew what Hibari did; he could rattle off Hibari's profile, his height, his weight, his blood type, his eye colour, his hair colour, his address… But what made the man tick? How did he think? What layers did he have to his personality? It all came up a large blank. Hibari was too jealous with his solitude, too guarded with himself.

With a grudging realisation, Gokudera knew that he had to be the one extending the hand of camaraderie, because Hibari sure wasn't going to. And this was a mission that needed them to work together, and if he couldn't trust Hibari, this was all going to go to hell in a handbasket.

And so, he graciously played the bigger man and opened the conversation. Because he was sure that was what the Tenth would have wanted.

"I'm going to take a look around the neighbourhood," Gokudera called, in the most amiable tone he had for all-but-strangers who should be family. "Want anything?"

"No," Hibari said, eyes languidly trailing down the page. Gokudera did not understand why he hadn't done that earlier on the plane, or why he had chosen to print and lug the papers when he could have easily read them off his laptop. Yet another observation that he could note but not see any significance in. All these little hints told volumes while leading absolutely nowhere. Frustrating.

"Do you want to come along?" Gokudera added pointedly, doing his best to keep his annoyance out of his voice and not doing so well.

"No," Hibari repeated. Gokudera shrugged as he put on his coat. He'd tried.

"Oh, by the way," Gokudera remembered just as he slipped on his shoes. "Look for the iron when you're done reading that and text me if you can't find it."

There was no reply from Hibari, and Gokudera wasn't going to stand around waiting for one, so he checked that he had his wallet, phone and key before stepping out and letting the door swing shut behind him. It locked with a gentle click and Gokudera sighed, reminding himself it would look very strange if he started cursing the second he set foot outside his door.

"Bastard," Gokudera allowed himself, before walking off.

-/\-

_Dear Hibari-san_, the file read as the very first line of the headnotes. _This mission is extremely delicate. Powerful families are involved. Discretion is of the utmost importance. Please proceed with caution._

Hibari frowned at the warning. From the beginning, he had been expecting something complicated for this mission. Why else would the sometimes-carnivore send the silver-haired man along? Why else would they be here, out of contact, flying business and hiding under false names in this cramped apartment?

Grey eyes flicked to the top of the file, where the families expected to be encountered were listed. _Vongola, Chiavarone…Costeggiare_. He knew the name. It wasn't one of theirs.

"_Costeggiare_ are like Hollywood pirates," Chiavarone had said, with a special sort of distaste as he said the name. Hibari remembered the sudden dip in inflection as the blonde spoke. "Flashy but no class. Unusual for an old family. They took in too many of their hired smuggling men as members some time back, maybe a few generations ago. Made the mistake of making one a captain recently. Their management was a disaster after that. Internal politics, very messy. I think they'd upset you, Kyouya!"

Chiavarone had tried to finish his paragraph lightly, but Hibari knew him a bit too well to believe him—that smile was a bit too much teeth and promise. Ah, Hibari had thought. They'd killed one of his. Hibari could understand that.

After that, Hibari opened a map, and with sweeping fingers Chiavarone had pointed out _Costeggiare_ territory; large chunks of the south and west, as well as a section in the south-east.

"Central is mine, mostly," Chiavarone said with the distinct lack of arrogance that came from truth. "They used to go around, or at least be polite when crossing. We had an arrangement. Now though…" His cheeks puffed out with an exhale.

"You are ridiculous," Hibari had commented and Chiavarone laughed.

"Oh, Kyouya, only you would say that to the face of the most handsome mafia boss in the world."

Hibari's eyes flicked to the side, an echo of his response that day as well, then back down to his file.

_Discretion is of the utmost importance_; the neat, sans-serif font ran across the pages. _Please proceed with caution._ Hibari smiled, somewhere between grim and expectant as certain words from the summary caught his eye.

_Profile influential persons. Evaluate strength. Take opportunities if available. _

He uncapped his pen and began to make notes in the margins.

-/\-

The area around the flat he'd rented had quite a few amenities. A grocery store, some small restaurants, a post office and, though it wasn't within walking distance _per say_, a department store.

It truly was winter, and by five, it was dark enough to be the dead of night. Gokudera stepped out of the grocery store, juggling the various bags and his wallet only to fumble for his phone to check exactly how long he'd spent inside the store. It took a while for his jetlagged mind to remember that it couldn't possibly be midnight, because he'd signed for the key before three.

He'd hurried back, though he made sure to be careful, looking both ways before he jaywalked. He could just imagine the Tenth's face if he added that to his report and smiled to himself as he jabbed the lift button with his elbow. He managed the door to 4A somehow, and felt the warmth wash over his face.

"I'm back," Gokudera called as he took off his shoes. Silence. "Hey, are you there?"

Still no reply. Gokudera figured that Hibari was just being an ass and shrugged out of his coat. He dumped the bag of household items near the storeroom door and put the foodstuff on the counter before returning to the storeroom. He shelved his purchases and noted there was still no sign of the iron. Hibari, of course, was also nowhere to be seen.

Gokudera packed away the foodstuff, mildly regretting doing the other bags first as the condensation from the meats, the milk and the cheese left small pools of water in the bag and on the table. After packing dry food away in the cupboards and tucking a first aid kit under the sink, Gokudera stood with a sense of accomplishment.

His good mood made him start on dinner early, right after he'd made himself a cup of coffee, black with plenty of sugar. He boiled some spaghetti and was just starting to fry mincemeat with basil, garlic, tomatoes and plenty of olive oil before he felt the instinctive rise of _danger turn fight_ and he whirled around, chopping knife in hand to see Hibari standing in the bedroom doorway observing him.

"What were you doing?" Gokudera asked, straightening and going back to his work, even as the nagging feeling that told him not to take his eyes off the man standing across the room persisted. The silence that followed was indignant, as much as Gokudera could tell from trying to douse the spaghetti in cold water and stir the mincemeat so it wouldn't become a huge slab.

Curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of his fellow guardian, though, and the dark haired man eventually ended up standing nearby, looking over Gokudera's arms to the stove.

"This is?" Hibari asked, after several long moments of staring at the pot.

"Pasta sauce," Gokudera answered. He thought it had turned out quite well. It wasn't anything near the odd purples and near-luminescent oranges of Bianchi's usual concoctions, so that could only be a good sign. Hibari nodded once. Taking a spoon from the drawer and rinsing it, Hibari dished out a little and blew on it before popping it in his mouth. He chewed, paused, swallowed slowly. Gokudera looked at him expectantly.

"Disgusting," Hibari said bluntly, washing the spoon. _Disgusting_? Well, good mood or no, Gokudera's pride wouldn't let him take _that_ lying down.

"What, you think you can do better?" he challenged, pointing at Hibari with the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the sauce.

Hibari did not deign to reply. He took his set of keys from the table and his coat from the hanger.

"Hey, where the fuck do you think you're going?" Gokudera demanded. Hibari glanced at him, then at the pot of pasta sauce, then looked away with what was obviously condescension as he put on his coat and changed to outside shoes.

"The hell is that supposed to mean!"

The door shut, and Gokudera chucked the spoon into the sink, cursing fluently. He'd done well, dammit. Would it kill the bastard to shut up, eat and be grateful that someone had spent time and effort cooking? The goddamn arrogance to actually tell him to his face that it was 'disgusting'… His cooking wasn't that bad! Just because his sister couldn't make anything in the kitchen except biohazards didn't mean shit. Surely it didn't warrant _that_…

Suddenly self-conscious, Gokudera tried the sauce himself. It tasted fine. Nothing to brag about, but not _bad_.

"More for me, then," Gokudera said to the empty flat. He ate on the sofa, his laptop in front of him and the TV running the news in the background. Eventually his laptop battery died on him and he took that as a sign to wash the dishes and clingwrap the remaining plate of pasta and chuck it in the fridge.

He plugged in his laptop to charge and took advantage of Hibari's absence to use the shower. The water took forever to heat up, which was far from amusing in the dead of winter. He was back on the sofa, towelling his hair dry when the door clicked open. Gokudera's hand went for the gun he'd left on the low table in front of him, just in case, but it was just Hibari.

"Welcome back," Gokudera said sarcastically. Hibari ignored him.

"You're welcome, bastard," Gokudera added. Hibari ignored that too. The Cloud guardian added some things to the fridge and cupboards, before walking over to the bedroom, still holding one bag. It was printed with the logo of the department store. Gokudera frowned, checking the time on his laptop. Again, it wasn't that late, just shy of eight o'clock.

"That store is three-quarters of an hour away by foot," Gokudera said. He took in Hibari's ruffled hair and came to a conclusion he didn't like very much very quickly.

"YOU STOLE A MOTORCYCLE?" Gokudera demanded.

"I put it back."

"That's not the point," Gokudera retorted. "We're _undercover_. What part of that don't you understand?"

Hibari then spoke the lengthiest statement that Gokudera had heard from him all day.

"I'm going to sleep. Wake me and I'll bite you to death."

-/\-

_**A/N**__: I somehow survived school and got this out on time! I apologise if this chapter is sloppy, I didn't go over it as much as I would have liked. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Please review if you did! I need all the encouragement I can get to do the next chapter. Polite concrit is welcome too, of course._

_(In hobbit-style, I give you this chapter as a birthday present! Now, as humans, a great present would be a review hinthinthint, ahaha.)_


	3. Alias

**The Long Haul**

By **codedredalert**

**Chapter 2: Alias**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own KHR. Full disclaimer in Prologue.

**Chapter Warnings**: Swearing. Reference to real schools I know nothing about, apologies for any misrepresentation.

_**A/N**__: Thanks to __**KusajishiFukutaicho**__ for being a great sounding board. Thank you if you've reviewed, faved or alerted my story or myself. Also, please sign in when you review, I'd like to thank you personally ~_

_If you wouldn't mind answering some questions on the underworld, Italy, or Naples, please PM me! _

-/\-

23 Dec

It felt like he'd only just closed his eyes when the sudden jerk of _falling _woke him and he hit the floor, gasping awake and reaching awkwardly for his gun.

"Wake up," a dark shadow standing over him said. Gokudera squinted against the light and groaned, covering his eyes and slumping to the floor. His heart pounded in his chest, and there was no way he could go back to sleep now, not with adrenaline screaming his body and mind into action.

"Fuck, you nearly gave me a heart attack, you bastard."

Hibari did not appear the least bit sorry. He turned and walked out of Gokudera's line of sight, and there was the rush of water into ceramic. With a deep breath, Gokudera pulled himself up and slowly shuffled over to the counter.

"We should talk about the mission," Gokudera yawned, dragging out one of the high chairs. "God, what time is it?"

"Late," Hibari said, transferring his documents to the kitchen counter, which was clear of everything except a small plate and a bread knife. Gokudera rolled his eyes.

"Helpful," he said snidely, looking at the wall clock. "Eleven fifty?" he asked, squinting.

"Ten fifty," Hibari corrected, opening his assignment folder. He'd annotated the document in blue ink and pencil, with scribbled Japanese in the margins.

"It's not that late," Gokudera grumbled. "Didn't have to kick me off the sofa to wake me up." Hibari raised an eyebrow slightly, unimpressed. Gokudera would have returned the look if he weren't so tired. He yawned again.

"I'm not awake enough for this shit," he muttered, head slowly sinking towards the counter. A cup was placed before him and Gokudera drank it with a muttered word of thanks, nearly scalding his throat and not caring. "Worst coffee I've ever had," Gokudera commented as he waited for the caffeine to kick in and—nothing.

"It's tea," Hibari said disapprovingly. Gokudera tipped the cup to examine the dregs and saw dark green powder in light green liquid.

"Shit. No wonder then. I think I bought coffee. You know where it is?"

It took a long moment of meeting Hibari's dark gray eyes before Hibari moved his head a fraction and Gokudera realised he'd just asked Hibari to go out of his way to make a cup of coffee. Luckily it seemed the other man was in a vaguely good mood. Probably from some sort of sadistic glee derived from giving people unpleasant wake up calls. It likely wouldn't last for long anyway. What a wonderful start to the morning.

"Oh hell," Gokudera muttered, letting his forehead fall to the counter. "I can get it." He took a deep breath and was about to push himself to his feet when Hibari's low voice interrupted him.

"Where?"

"What?" Gokudera asked more as a reflex than a genuine question. "Oh. Up there, in the overhead cupboard."

Hibari made a low sound of acknowledgement and opened the cupboard Gokudera had gestured at.

"The sugar too, please," Gokudera said, even as he wondered if that was pushing the other too far. Hibari, in a strangely magnanimous gesture, placed the box of sugar cubes in front of Gokudera without any fuss. The dark haired man then deftly made the coffee, though it wasn't difficult per se. Gokudera bought instant for a reason, and that reason was because he could still stumble through the motions of stirring water and powder together even after he was half-delirious from staying awake for fifty-plus hours. Heck, even _Lambo _could make him coffee, not that he'd actually trust the kid anywhere near that much caffeine.

"Thank you," Gokudera said as Hibari set the cup before him. He threw in three cubes, stirred, then added one more for good measure. Hibari confiscated the box of sugar before Gokudera could contemplate adding another. He sipped cautiously, and found the sweetness was just short of how he normally took his coffee. Oh well.

"What do you think of the mission?" Gokudera opened the conversation.

"_Costeggiare _does contraband, smuggling and intimidation along the port. Management is being overhauled due to internal strife. Profile the new ones under pretences of negotiation, break the monopoly of the coast," Hibari summarised neatly.

"Break the… that wasn't in the assignment," Gokudera commented.

"It will get better results."

"You think you can?" Gokudera raised his eyebrow as he helped himself to the bread on the table. Hibari gave him a plate and Gokudera nodded in acknowledgement.

"I could have done this alone," Hibari replied smoothly, pride thinly concealed in the lift of his head.

"No, you couldn't have," Gokudera said, matter-of-factly. "Not that it's anything to do with you," he continued as Hibari's gaze turned into a mild glower. "_Costeggiare _has been strange lately. They wouldn't have listened to you if you were alone."

Hibari looked like he had something to say to that, something backed up with the steel of his tonfa, but Gokudera wasn't in the mood to be a punching bag.

"Hear me out," Gokudera said pre-emptively, holding up a hand. It worked, Hibari settled back, though the way his eyes glinted promised a first-hand experience of the Napoli healthcare system if Gokudera did not explain himself satisfactorily. And soon.

"I know you're used to dangerous politicking, but this mission is different. _Costeggiare _isn't just powerful for their dealings or monopoly. They are an old family, and old families tend to have many favours to collect on. This is also _Chiavarone _territory, and there is bad blood between them. The situation is delicate. It wouldn't be too much if the Tenth came all the way for this negotiation, but we're in the middle of negotiations with the _yakuza_ back home, so it's me and you."

"Chiavarone is working with us," Hibari said, somewhere between a question and a statement. Gokudera blinked and took a moment to realise that Hibari was talking about Dino and not the whole family.

"Well, yeah, it's not polite to leave him out when we're operating from his territory. Anything we gain from this mission will be most likely be entrusted to him, with an annual contribution to us."

Hibari made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat and Gokudera took that as a sign to continue.

"Anyway, families outside our alliance don't know how _Vongola's_ structure works. It's a risk for them to deal with you alone; they don't know where you stand in internal power divisions. Then, there's the matter of rank; they'll probably see you as a captain or thereabouts. Sending you to negotiate on your own is blatant disrespect. That's why we're sending the third highest ranking boss in the alliance, the highest ranking right hand, and a 'captain' from the highest ranking family in the alliance."

Gokudera prayed that the message '_we're not screwing around just to mess with your ego, this is actually a pretty big deal'_ would get through. There was a long moment of silence before Hibari seemed to accept Gokudera's reasoning, albeit reluctantly, frowning slightly as he turned his eyes upon his own steaming cup of tea. Gokudera counted it as a victory and finished his coffee.

"The aliases are just in case, for the information gathering part of the mission," Gokudera added. Hibari glared at him, obviously resenting being told how to do his job. Perhaps Gokudera should have quit while he was ahead. "I know you know, I'm just saying."

"Anything else?" Hibari prompted lowly. Gokudera bit down the urge to reply with something equally childish or sarcastic and turned his mind back to the mission.

"We broker a trade. The list of what we can offer is in the file, though word is _Costeggiare _is looking to acquire weaponry. I say let them think they've come out top on the deal. Let them think we are the young, arrogant ones. Let them make mistakes, and we'll have favours from them."

"You want to turn them," Hibari observed.

"I don't know yet, it depends if they're worth turning."

Hibari nodded once, shallowly.

"The rising management will need results to be accepted into power," he commented. "Our deal will be advantageous for them."

"What if they don't take it?" Gokudera asked, wanting to see if Hibari had a Plan B.

"We play the other side, crush the challengers, and gain favour from _them _instead."

"And if they are united?"

"Men have vices," Hibari said, disdain curling the corner of his mouth. "Especially Western men."

"Let's say they don't," Gokudera refrained from calling Hibari out on his racism in favour of continuing the line of Socratic questioning. In answering, Hibari's voice was dark, and his statement simple.

"Then we make them."

Gokudera started, head coming up to meet Hibari's eyes. He had thought of that. It was his job to. To think the worst of everyone, and to sink lower still, to play dirty and hard and heartless. To have contingencies for contingencies and every underhanded scheme possible up his sleeve, ready to be played at the right time, at the right moment, to get his way.

Gokudera had been prepared to do what had needed to be done. He was surprised Hibari had been too.

"Objections?" Hibari asked with a hint of challenge as the silence stretched. Gokudera breathed out slowly, shaking his head.

"None. That's actually pretty fucking brilliant… if we can pull it off."

Hibari's split-second grin was absolutely feral.

-/\-

The trick with aliases, surprisingly, was not to change too much.

Gale Marino was very much Gokudera; the quiet, very academic man he might have been if his background were not old mafia blood. He kept to himself, worked hard and found things to do and learn during the holidays or near died of boredom. Like Gokudera, Gale would have excelled in school. Unlike Gokudera, he didn't have the Tenth or the _Vongola_ and eventually Gale would have the difficult choice of arts or sciences. He graduated with freelance journalism and plenty of dabbling. His second favourite thing was looking at the stars. His first favourite was wondering what lay beyond them.

If Gale were another person, Gokudera would have liked him. Unfortunately, Gale did not share Gokudera's love of loud printed T-shirts and metal-studded belts. That meant shopping. Gokudera was dreading it. As with most things, the practise of being another person was a very different game from theory.

"Ready to go?" Gokudera asked. He blended a trace of the soft melody Irie had picked up from his time in the UK with Mukuro's best 'I am innocent and maybe lost and confused' vocal register. Hibari's head turned a fraction, sharply. He glared at Gokudera for a stretch, and Gokudera tried to force himself to smile back.

"Where?" Hibari asked in return, distaste for the manner of speech obvious.

"Department store, to build the persona," Gokudera replied, returning to his usual brusque clip. He paused, then decided he couldn't be bothered to try the voice again. "Who are you using anyway?"

"Kaoru," Hibari said. The name was vaguely familiar.

"Family name?" Gokudera prompted.

"Takahashi."

"Ah," Gokudera said, reluctant to admit that he couldn't remember. Hibari was in the field so often that it was perfectly fair for Gokudera to forget. He committed the name to memory to look up in the files later. The storm guardian returned to the task at hand.

"So. Coming with me to get disguises or what?"

"Disguises," Hibari repeated, raising an eyebrow. Gokudera resisted the urge to ask if Hibari was going deaf.

"You should," Gokudera said. "I didn't see anything different from what 'Hibari Kyouya' would wear in your luggage."

Silence. Gokudera couldn't for the life of him figure out what Hibari was thinking.

"You could get to know my persona at least. And it'd help to have a second opinion from someone used to field work," Gokudera added. "In fact, our best disguise is probably the fact we're even walking together. I'm not associated with you, and you're associated with well … being a crowd conscious bastard, so you should come along."

After a moment, Hibari put aside his file and stood. Hurrah for logic and reasoning.

"Need a moment to get ready?" Gokudera asked, in Gale's voice, a considerate question. Hibari frowned and used a hand to ruffle his own hair. He headed for the door.

"You still look the same," Gokudera felt the need to point out.

"Ah, is that so, Marino-san?" the dark haired man asked and Gokudera started. Hibari's—was that really the same person?—voice was still deep, but now it was open at the ends, honest, and above all, likable. The sort of person you automatically categorise as trustworthy and dependable, someone you'd like to make friends with.

"How?" Gokudera demanded. "How do you do that?" The man's shoulders softened in an almost-shrug, then returned to strong lines.

"Practise," Hibari pronounced confidently, with a touch of amusement. His expression was easy, comfortable. A far cry from blade-silver stares and perpetual guard. Gokudera struggled to find words for a moment. Something between 'how do I do that' and 'that's unfair' fought for first right to be said.

"Dammit," Gokudera said, shaking his head. "Fine. Let's go."

"Ah, it couldn't be… that you're _jealous_, Marino-san," Hibari said over his shoulder. Gokudera scowled.

"That's Yamamoto, isn't it?" Gokudera asked without waiting for an answer. "You modelled this alias off the baseball freak."

"Not only," and Hibari's features became serious. Not dark focus, but dutiful determination. Like a knight, or a prince of a kingdom that no longer existed, Gokudera thought before he caught himself. Dammit, he had to stop letting the stupid woman recommend him fantasy RPG games, it was affecting his work.

They walked to the bus stop, and Hibari stood nearer than usual. Gokudera was sorely tempted to comment that people might actually think Hibari knew him, standing less than six feet away. The cloud guardian always kept his distance, even at little gatherings when it was just family. He only came within six feet of two people: the Tenth and Chrome. Most of the time, he was across the room in a corner, or off by himself, at the kind of distance people have to raise voices for.

Somehow, pointing that out seemed inappropriate. Gokudera bit his tongue and steadfastly looked away, at the grocery store across the street, and waited for the bus. They didn't wait long, and the bus they got on was almost empty. Gokudera tried to pick apart 'Kaoru' the whole way to the department store and with great reluctance had to admit that he was impressed.

Hibari had stretched and looked at the ceiling of the bus in a way that was distinctly un-Hibari, exposing throat and chest and stomach for a long moment. He spoke carelessly, flitting between frivolous topics, like music or games or neighbours. Gokudera never thought that Hibari would have invented a whole street of people just to support one alias. He would have to ask, later, when they got back.

"Where did you go to school?" Gokudera asked as they meandered through the shopping mall. It was bright, but still before the lunch crowd.

"So, even the honour student forgets things sometimes," Hibari directed sideways, walking in step with him. Gokudera crossed his arms, and it felt unnatural, tangled up and disadvantageous if an enemy suddenly appeared.

"The honour student had better things to think about," Gokudera replied. Hibari hummed noncommittally.

"Tokyo U, political science. Before that, Kamata High, where we met."

"Right, I remember now," Gokudera said. Hibari scoffed, not unkindly.

"Took you two years to remember my name."

"There were too many 'Takahashi's in our year," Gokudera said defensively, making things up on the fly. Hibari's answering smile made him want to shudder.

"What have you been doing recently?" Hibari asked, changing the subject. "Since we graduated."

"Nothing much," Gokudera replied, thinking fast. His answer came out a bit clipped. "Working."

"Ah. What work?"

"Journalism. You?"

"I visited Brussels with a friend, worked as a policeman back home for a while, then… you know."

Obviously, Gokudera didn't know, and damn if he wasn't dying to ask. He briefly wondered if Hibari was doing this on purpose. Gokudera was definitely looking up that the Brussels file the second they got home.

They wandered into H&M, and without thinking, Gokudera unfolded one of the T-shirt on sale to have a better look. It was black with a silver skull laid over a chaotic burst on the shoulder. And it was on sale. Hibari was standing off to the side, one eye brow raised and his mouth pulling up at one corner.

"That does not suit you, Marino-san," Hibari said and it was just so easy to fall into being Gale.

"Friends for seven years now, and you still call me by my last name, Kaoru? I'm wounded," Gokudera replied dryly, and Hibari's eyes sharpened a bit in warning. His response as Kaoru was seamless.

"Sarcasm, _Gale_. Sarcasm. Perhaps you've heard of it."

"Funny," Gokudera said, but he put the T-shirt back. Hibari meandered towards a shelf of cardigans.

"You had one like this," Hibari said, turning to Gokudera as he pointed to a beige and caramel button up. It looked boring and Gokudera struggled not to make a face. Hibari's choice was practically Namimori yellow.

"Indeed I did," Gokudera said dryly. It was almost true; he'd had the Namimori blazer. "Doesn't mean I _liked_ it."

"It's a good colour," Hibari said, with a swift-second glare that challenged Gokudera to say otherwise despite the easygoing tone of voice.

"Never seen _you _wear it," Gokudera retorted, but he grabbed two cardigans in the same style, one grey and black, one maroon and grey. Feeling whimsical, Gokudera grabbed a very emasculating aqua and beige one and tossed it at Hibari, who caught it easily.

"We could match," Gokudera snickered. The beige looked awful anywhere near Hibari's skin.

"That's terrible," Hibari answered as he put it back.

"Seriously though, you should get something. The sale ends soon," Gokudera said, hoping Hibari would get the hint.

"I don't need anything," Hibari answered stubbornly.

"I didn't see a single set of casual clothing in your suitcase!"

"Perhaps because I didn't bring any."

"Exactly."

"I do not see how that is a problem," Hibari said, slipping back very slightly to Hibari, a warning to let the issue go.

"Kaoru-kun needs clothes," Gokudera pressed. If Hibari was going to be stubborn and not choose, then he'd have to live with whatever Gokudera picked. A deep teal, ribbed turtleneck joined the contents of the basket.

-/\-

The moment they stepped through the door of apartment 4A, Hibari's precise posture and razor edges were back. The sudden spike of hostility made Gokudera turn, half concerned, half ready to fight.

"Don't touch me, herbivore," Hibari snapped before Gokudera could speak, and it was all Hibari again, without a doubt.

"I was just—"

"Do not _crowd _me," the dark haired man's voice was a low, almost monotone order. Vicious undercurrents rippled the surface of the naturally controlled voice. After spending the day getting used to the easy, comfortable persona of a long-time friend, Gokudera took a moment to readjust.

"Don't want to, bastard," Gokudera shot back. He would have flipped the other man off if his hands weren't full.

Hibari disappeared into the room, and the door swung shut. Gokudera chucked the shopping on the floor and flopped onto the sofa. Trying to be someone else was tiring. He hadn't realised that he'd been so on edge until they'd gotten back. Maybe that's what had Hibari so worked up.

Sighing, Gokudera dragged his briefcase closer and pulled out his laptop. He sent some emails, read a couple of reports and pulled out the Brussels mission Hibari was in a couple of years ago. It had been medium length. Hibari had done the groundwork then passed it over to Mukuro and Irie for surveillance set up. 'Takahashi Kaoru' then returned to Japan, where he joined the police force. Gokudera found that hilarious.

Then… indefinite suspension for insubordination. Gokudera frowned as he read that again. Kaoru had punched his superior and gone against orders in pursuing a suspect. The conviction was successful, the man had been guilty of murder and theft, but Kaoru was politely asked to leave.

"I can make Gale the concerned friend type," Gokudera murmured to himself, sipping his fourth coffee of the day. Another virtue of instant was that he had fresh coffee whenever he wanted, in whatever amount he wanted. It didn't seem like a big deal but only people who have never worked forty-eight hours straight would underestimate the virtues of exactly half a cup of hot coffee.

"Concerned friend," Gokudera mused, turning the idea over his tongue and in his mind. It could work, but Gokudera wasn't sure what exactly a concerned friend _did. _The image in his mind swung between two extremes. There was the Yamamoto or Ryohei type, who would drag people to 'fun' activities until the friend in question became too exasperated to mope. Then there was the Tenth, who knew all the right things to say or do at the right time. Gokudera wanted to emulate the Tenth through Gale, but he wasn't sure he could.

Hibari reappeared, hair slightly damp and sleeves rolled up. He walked past Gokudera to the kitchen as if the silver haired man wasn't there. Gokudera looked up.

"What should I do to improve Gale?" he asked. For a moment, he didn't think that Hibari was going to reply, or even heard him. The dark haired man continued doing who knew what in the kitchen, Gokudera couldn't see past the high counter without sitting up properly, which he didn't feel like doing.

"Change hair colour," Hibari replied, as the regular chopping of something on a cutting board started up. Gokudera rolled his eyes, even though he knew Hibari couldn't see him.

"Besides that," Gokudera said. Why Hibari would pick on that he didn't know. The dark haired man had been there as Gokudera bought light brown hair dye earlier today.

"Character," Hibari said, clearly uninterested. Gokudera grit his teeth and took a breath. Shouting at Hibari was not going to help, he told himself. It might be therapeutic though, Gokudera's mind added helpfully.

His phone rang, interrupting him. His family work phone. Gokudera immediately sat up and took the call.

"What is it?" he asked briskly, businesslike. In the corner of his eye, he saw Hibari glance towards him for a moment.

"Gokudera-san? I got through immigration…"

Gokudera relaxed. It wasn't an emergency.

"Chrome," he greeted back. "I'm glad to hear that. Is there a problem?"

An unusually loud sound of knife meeting board. Gokudera glanced at Hibari. The man's eyes were narrowed suspiciously before he turned and there was a fierce hiss of water and oil. Gokudera raised an eyebrow at Hibari's back.

"Ah, yes," the female guardian said. "I called because I cannot reach the contact."

Gokudera held the phone to his ear and pulled up the mission file on his laptop. A notification from Irie flashed in the corner of his screen and Gokudera opened that too. It had been a program the genius had made especially for the top _Vongola_ members. Gokudera had not fully understood the explanation, but it was a secure form of communication.

**Need any support? I can fly through Italy on the way back. —51 **

Gokudera considered Irie's offer for a moment, casting a glance at Hibari. His mission partner seemed rather adverse to technology, and Gokudera was fine for now. Hibari lifted the board and swept the contents into a pot, head lifting to catch Gokudera staring. Gokudera turned back to his laptop.

**Should be ok. –59 **

"Your contact's name is Suu?" Gokudera asked Chrome once he had replied to Irie. He pulled up his email and searched for any new updates.

"Yes, but no one I think could be her has approached me, and it's quite far past the meeting time." Chrome's soft voice sounded concerned. Gokudera thought that was fair, since contacts were usually very prompt. A new message flashed in the corner of Gokudera's screen.

**2 is waiting for instructions from you. Something about catering? –51 **

Gokudera cursed at the reminder. Fuuta was running Gokudera's errands while the storm guardian was on this mission. Gokudera had given the kid a head's up about the caterers and last minute delivery problems that were a combination of the main house's location and security protocol. The slightly absent-minded brunette had merely smiled and said that the catering company he had in mind was supposed to be second best in the whole of Japan for roasted turkey.

"That stupid—" Gokudera bit out, before remembering he was on the line.

"Gokudera-san?" Chrome said with urgency. "Is the mission compromised?"

"Sorry, not you. Give me a moment," Gokudera told her, shifting the phone to his other ear. He glanced towards the kitchen, where Hibari seemed to have finished cooking. In fact, the man was staring. Gokudera took that as a signal to get to the table and look for dinner. Coffee could only put off hunger pangs for so long, after all. He grabbed his laptop and a couple of papers and quickly relocated.

"Are you able to contact any others?" Gokudera asked Chrome as he settled into one of the high chairs at the counter. There were no updates from Chrome's primary contact, or any notifications from any others in the region.

"Second and third did not answer either," Chrome said, proving that she hadn't called him straight away. Gokudera frowned, not liking what that information implied. Having all contacts drop suddenly like that meant nothing good.

"I'll get a techie to run a check for you," Gokudera told her.

"Thank you," Chrome said, polite as ever. Gokudera lowered the phone to the table for a moment, freeing his hands to type faster.

**May have work for you after all, glasses. 96 is having problems reaching contacts. Is it a network problem? –59 **

Irie's reply was almost instantaneous, a testament to the IT specialist's touch-typing skill.

**I rather despise that nickname and I wish you'd stop calling me that. I'll run a check now. –51 **

A plate with a neat fillet of red snapper perched on a bed of leek was placed in front of Gokudera. He glanced up long enough to direct thanks at Hibari and shifted the plate so it wouldn't get in the way. A bowl of rice and a bowl of miso soup joined the plate. Hibari set his own food on the narrow counter, diagonally opposite from Gokudera. Gokudera grabbed his phone from the counter to get it out of the way.

"Hang on," Gokudera told Chrome before setting his phone down again. He started on an email to Fuuta, demanding an update, and the contact details of the catering company.

"_Itadakimasu_," Hibari said quietly before starting to eat. He apparently had decided to stand and eat from the other side of the counter rather than walking round and taking one of the two remaining chairs on Gokudera's side.

Gokudera shrugged and tapped 'send'. He was about to start on his own portion when another message from Irie popped up. Gokudera put his chopsticks back down to see what the redhead had to say.

**Got it. Security program wouldn't give local numbers access through the network. Should be okay now. –51 **

**Thanks. Stand by just in case. –59 **

**Sure thing. –51 **

He picked up his phone again. "Chrome, are you still there?"

"Yes," she replied quietly.

"Try calling your secondary contact again," Gokudera said. "If it doesn't work, call me back."

"Thank you Gokudera-san," Chrome replied. The line disconnected and Gokudera put his phone on the table, rolling his shoulders. Then he paused as he remembered he'd forgotten to tell her what to do if calling her contact did work. He opened a new window on his laptop and sent a quick message.

**Message me if you can reach your contact. –59 **

**Thank you, 59-san. I will. –96 **

Sighing as he set his laptop to the side somewhat, Gokudera picked up his chopsticks again. He tried some of the fish and glanced back down at the plate. It was surprisingly good.

"Not bad," Gokudera complemented, pulling the plate closer.

"Is that so."

Gokudera's head jerked up at the loaded tone. Hibari was seething; aggression tightly reigned away from his expression. The lines of his hand and chopsticks seemed too purposeful for someone simply eating dinner. Gokudera instinctively knew that he was one wrong move from being 'bitten to death'.

"Alright, it's good," Gokudera admitted, confused by Hibari obviously overreacting. Hibari observed him for a moment, and Gokudera wondered what the hell he said wrong.

"Kitchen is mine," Hibari concluded at length.

"What? You can't just decide that!" Gokudera protested. Hibari didn't bother to reply, finishing his food with a perfectly impassive expression. Gokudera took a breath.

"Why?" Gokudera asked reasonably.

"I'm not eating your poison," Hibari said, matching Gokudera's tone.

"_Poison_?" Gokudera spluttered. Hibari set his bowl down neatly.

"You have complaints?" Hibari asked evenly and oh so dangerously. Clenching his hand into a fist around his chopsticks, Gokudera told himself not to start a fight at the dinner table with Hibari of all people. He was sorely tempted to say yes and purposely find fault with the food, but a notification flashed in the corner of his screen. With deliberate patience, Gokudera set his chopsticks down and checked Chrome's message, purposely taking his time.

**Secondary contact has arrived. Thank you, 59-san. –96**

**No problem. Take care. –59 **

The short interval had diffused the tension slightly. Hibari's speed was not just a fighting skill it seemed. He had already taken care of his own dishes, which were drying on the rack. Gokudera felt like arguing just for the principle of not letting Hibari get his way all the time, but decided to give up trying to figure out what the man was thinking.

"Just cook something other than Japanese once in a while and we're good," Gokudera replied just as evenly. Hibari gave a superior look and walked away with all the grace of an indignant leopard. Internally, Gokudera shrugged. If Hibari wanted to do the chores, let him. It made life that much easier.

Hibari disappeared behind the bedroom door and Gokudera went back to dinner and work.

**Tenth, I apologise in advance for any inconvenience related to the Christmas catering. I'm doing damage control now. I'll try to have today's summarised report in by 2am. –59 **

**I'm cancelling the profiterole tower order. The stupid cow doesn't need the sugar. –59 **

**Also, your cloud guardian's a bitch. –59 **

-/\-

_A/N: Two questions. Would you rather have chapters on time, but short and possibly not betaed, or longer, betaed chapters which will likely not be on time? Also, how do you edit previous chapters without sending alerts to people by accident? Please review and let me know, thanks. _


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